by Savanna Fox
Holding hands, carrying their bottles, he showed her the big living room with the river rock fireplace, the dining room with its plain wooden furniture, and the downstairs bathroom.
“It’s very attractive.”
“Not your style,” he guessed. The only art was a mountain landscape on one wall.
“The bones of the house and the furniture are great. But I’d add color, art, whimsy.”
His lips twitched. “Whimsy? That sounds so much like me.”
“I like the photos.” She walked closer to a wall covered with framed photos of family and friends. “Oh, man, look at you.” She shook her head over pictures of him atop bucking broncs, and winced at one where he’d been sent flying through the air.
Gesturing to a wedding photo, she said, “Your parents? They’re a good-looking couple. You take after your dad.”
“People say so.” His dad looked happy but a little uncomfortable in a charcoal suit, and his mom, Betty, was radiant in a long dress—yellow, her favorite color, and designed simply, the way she liked.
He pointed to another photo. “That’s Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding picture.” His grandfather wore a western-styled suit and shirt, bolo tie, cowboy hat, and boots. Ty’s grandma wore an embroidered white square-dance style dress with a full skirt, beautifully tooled cowboy boots, and a matching hat.
“Look at them. How very western.”
He was going to skip showing her the home gym, but when they passed the open door she stepped inside. “This is cool. Your own private fitness center.”
He had weights, a rowing machine, a treadmill for when snow kept him from running outside. “Got to be in good shape to rodeo. Doesn’t hurt any when it comes to ranch work either.”
“You even have a yoga mat.”
“I don’t do yoga but I do some stretches. To loosen up, and keep on top of a couple of old rodeo injuries so I don’t hobble around like an old man.”
“Hard to imagine.”
He took her upstairs, pointing out the couple of smallish bedrooms—for kids, one day—another bathroom, his office, and the master bedroom, with its big window facing the mountains. Lust and hunger warred, and hunger won. They’d have all night to heat up that bed.
“Let’s go downstairs and I’ll get dinner going.” With a hand on Kim’s back, he steered her toward the stairs. “I’ll cook the trout on the barbecue with lemon. New potatoes with parsley, if that works for you. There’s a bunch of veggies in the fridge. Pick whatever you like.” He pulled out a saucepan and put water on to boil for the potatoes.
Kim squatted in front of the fridge. “Everything looks so good. Maybe a big salad?”
“Sure.”
She pulled out ingredients. “Salad bowl?”
“Hey, you don’t have to do that. Sit down and relax. I bet you’re achy.” He went to light the barbecue on the deck off the kitchen.
When he came back in, Kim had found a salad bowl, washed the vegetables and sat at the table, tearing lettuce. “A back deck and a front porch,” she said. “To catch the sunlight at different times of day?”
“That’s the idea. Figure we’ll eat on the front porch and watch the sunset.” He gave a wry laugh. “That’s about as exciting as evening entertainment gets around here.” What would she be doing in Vancouver? Dining with friends, going to an exhibit or the theater, dancing at a club?
“Oh, I’m betting you can provide something a bit more exciting than that, cowboy, once the sun goes down.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I do have something in mind.”
“Oh?” She cocked her head. Her hair looked cute, messed up from the hat. He’d expected a city girl to fuss in front of a mirror, and liked that Kim didn’t.
“You’re going to stiffen up, and I have a Jacuzzi.”
“How decadent. As you saw, I don’t even have a bathtub. But, I didn’t see a Jacuzzi in either of the bathrooms.”
“There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom. A large bathroom with a really big Jacuzzi.” He winked, his blood heating as he imagined getting her naked again.
“Really big? As in, big enough for two?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I like your plan.”
It was kind of strange, being with her in the kitchen. She turned him on and he wanted to have sex with her, but this was fun too, chatting about whatever came to mind as they put dinner together. She sipped her lager, but when he opened a bottle of white wine from a Fraser Valley winery, she shoved the beer bottle aside, half full. “That’s enough for me if I’m going to drink wine too.”
He filled a couple of glasses and assembled cutlery, paper napkins, and salt and pepper shakers. “Want to take this out to the porch? I’ll check the fish.”
Sure enough, the skin on the three trout was crispy and brown, the filleted insides tender and moist. He dished them onto plates, two for him and one for Kim. They served themselves baby potatoes topped with butter and parsley, and sizable portions of salad.
Plates and wineglasses in hand, they headed out to the porch. The wooden Adirondack chairs had cushioned seats and broad arms, a good place to put a wineglass.
Sinking into a chair, Kim yawned, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“You’re on country time already.”
“Guess so. And I’m so relaxed. Coming up with that umbrella idea, I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted.”
“I’m kind of surprised you don’t want to dive into researching it. I’m glad, though.”
“There’s time. Now I have the idea—thanks to you, Ty—it’ll work out, I just know it.” She tasted the fish. “Mmm, nice.”
“Not as fancy as what we ate last night, but I like it.”
“Me too. I’m not much of a cook. I eat out or get something I can microwave.” She dug in with relish, taking an occasional sip of wine, smothering another yawn or two. “What time will the sun set?”
“Around eight. See the sky changing?”
“This place makes my fingers itch.”
“Uh . . .” Was she saying she had allergies?
“To hold a paintbrush. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera so I’d have photos to paint from.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “Asian tourist with camera? It’s a stereotype.”
“We don’t see a lot of Asian tourists with cameras out here.”
She giggled. “No, I guess not. Oh well. It would have been fun to show pictures to my parents and friends back in Hong Kong. They’d never believe where I am, what I’ve been seeing.” She picked up her wineglass and took a swallow. “Though I don’t know how I’d explain to my parents why I was here.”
“Explain what? You visited a friend’s ranch?”
“They’re nosy. What sex is this friend? Male? You’re spending time with a male friend other than Henry?”
“Henry?” A rush of something male and primal hit him. “Who’s Henry? You said you weren’t dating anyone.”
She shook her head quickly. “I’m not. Henry’s a very nice guy from Hong Kong, who’s living in Vancouver. Our parents did some matchmaking. He and I were a couple until a few months ago. We haven’t told our parents we’ve broken up.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll find out when we go home. Until then, let them be happy—and leave us in peace.”
“Your parents have a lot of influence in your life.” At twenty-four, shouldn’t she be more independent when it came to her career and who she dated? And wasn’t it better to tell her parents the truth than to—at least by omission—deceive them?
“Yeah. So do yours, right?”
“Not in the same way. We’re business partners.” He and his dad still disagreed occasionally, but—largely thanks to his mom’s wisdom—they’d worked out ways of settling arguments.
“You mean they don’t butt into your personal life?”
“Well,” he had to admit, “Mom’s been on my case to
find a wife.”
A grin flickered but didn’t catch hold. “I wondered how a guy like you managed to stay single.”
“A guy like me?”
“Good-looking, responsible, a successful businessman. Not to mention sexy.” Her delicate eyebrows pulled together. “You’re quite a catch for a certain kind of woman.”
Not her, clearly. City girls and country boys didn’t mix, not long-term. He’d known that since he was a toddler. The fact that Kim knew it too shouldn’t hurt. Trying to keep his tone light, he asked, “What kind? Buckle bunnies?” Did she think he was that shallow?
“Unlike you, I don’t know any buckle bunnies,” she said, an edge in her voice. “But I’m guessing they’re just into the glamorous side—the hottie rodeo star—not the hard work.”
He nodded. “Right. To live on Ronan Ranch, a woman can’t be afraid of hard work.”
She tilted her head. “What’s your perfect woman?”
Oddly, the answer that sprang to mind was You.
In some ways she was. Smart and creative, sexy and fun, unpredictable, colorful. Life would never be dull. But what was he thinking? She wouldn’t make a ranch wife, and she sure as hell didn’t want to be one.
Before he could answer her, a truck drove up the road and stopped. A woman climbed out.
He groaned. “Speak of the devil. You’re about to meet my mom.”
His mother was trim in jeans and a checked shirt, her brown hair pulled back from her face with a blue band. She looked barely forty rather than fast approaching fifty. She waved. “Ty, give me a hand.”
Resignedly he climbed to his feet, set his half-finished dinner on a side table, and headed down the steps barefoot.
She handed him a basket overflowing with vegetables. Like she didn’t know his fridge was already full. Then she reached into the truck again and came out with a blackberry pie. “I’ve been baking. Figured you and your guest might like dessert.”
“How did you know I had company for dinner?”
She gave that all-knowing Mom smile. “Your dad saw the car, and it didn’t come back.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for the pie.” He tried to take it from her but she held tight to it.
Amused and annoyed, he said, “Okay, come meet her.”
“Thought you’d never ask. Didn’t anyone teach you manners, son?”
By the time they reached the steps, Kim had risen and put her plate down.
“Mom, this is my friend Kim Chang. Kim, Betty Ronan.”
His mother shuffled the pie plate to her left hand and held out her right one. “It’s nice to meet one of Ty’s friends.” He was pretty sure a petite Asian woman with spiky, color-streaked hair and turquoise toenails wasn’t what his mom had expected.
Kim shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ronan.”
“Mom brought pie. And veggies.” He winked at Kim from behind his mother.
“I love pie. And you can never have too many vegetables.” She sounded polite and a bit nervous.
“You should take some home,” his mom said, “when you go.” She paused. “Where’s home for you? You don’t live around here, do you?”
“I live in Vancouver, but my real home is Hong Kong.” Kim added, pointedly, “I’ll be heading back in a month and a half.”
“Ah.” Reluctantly, she said, “I should let you get back to your dinner.” She glanced at him.
No, he wasn’t going to invite her to have a glass of wine or share the pie. “Thanks for the food, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
Kim said, “Yes, thanks so much. The pie looks delicious. And it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too. Perhaps if you’re here tomorrow—”
“Bye, Mom,” Ty cut in.
“All right, all right.” She shot one final appraising look at Kim, then headed back to the truck.
When she’d driven away, Ty and Kim sat down again and he refilled the wineglasses. “Nah, Mom doesn’t butt into my life.” He took a long swallow.
Kim laughed. “It’s human nature. We’re lucky to have parents who care about us.” She picked up her dinner plate and started eating again.
He gave a half smile. “She makes damn good pie.”
“I’ll save room for dessert.”
“How’s the trout? Sorry it got cold.”
“It still tastes good. So do the potatoes. Dinner’s perfect, Ty. But I shouldn’t drink any more.”
“Scared you’ll leap my bones if you get all uninhibited?”
She chuckled. “You have excellent bones. But tonight, the fresh air’s done a number on me. I’m more afraid I’ll fall asleep in this chair and you’ll never get me up.”
Like it’d be any trouble to hoist all one hundred pounds of her and carry her off to bed. An appealing thought, but there was something else on his mind. “What did you think of her?”
“Pretty, in a natural way. Fit. Young. She must have had you in her teens.”
He rarely thought about the fact that Betty Ronan wasn’t his birth mom. “She’s only twenty years older than me, and she looks young for her age. Hard work and healthy living, she says. My dad’s almost ten years older than her, and in great shape too.”
Kim nodded and put her plate aside, polished clean. “My parents are much older. They tried for almost twenty years to have a child. When I came along, they were thrilled. I got the full weight of all the hopes, dreams, and expectations they’d been saving up for all those years.”
“That’s a lot to put on a kid.”
“It’s pretty normal in the families I know.” She covered her mouth to hide a yawn. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“I’m an only too.” To his parents’ regret, Betty couldn’t have kids. Too bad. He wouldn’t have minded a kid brother or sister. Not only to hang out with, but to maybe get his dad off his back.
“Oh look, the sky is so incredible.”
He glanced up to see the colors deepening as the sun sank lower, and reached over to take Kim’s hand. They watched in companionable silence as vivid rosy reds, oranges, and yellows gradually faded to more subtle shades of pink and purple. Often, Ty was too busy to notice the sunset, though sometimes he ate dinner out here and watched it. Alone. Other nights, he was down at his folks’ place, talking business rather than enjoying the scenery.
Last night, when the invitation to visit the ranch had burst out of his mouth, he’d wondered if it was a mistake. If he’d regret it; if she’d be bored or sneer at him for being a hick. Now, he was glad his mouth had gotten ahead of his brain.
Sunset, a glass of wine, his fingers linked with Kim’s. Life was pretty damned good. Later, if she didn’t fall asleep first, they’d climb into the Jacuzzi. They’d have sex, maybe slow and gentle, maybe steaming hot. But for now, her small, warm hand in his felt exactly right.
* * *
Kim struggled to keep her eyes open. Fresh country air, terrific sex, exercise, pleasantly aching muscles, great food, more alcohol than she was used to . . . Tonight she had no urge to sing karaoke or even have sex on a truck. Her body urged her to drift into sleep.
“She’s not my birth mother,” Ty said.
Well, that certainly woke her up. “What? Who? Betty?”
“She and Dad met and married when I was three. She’s the only mom I remember, and she’s a great one. When she’s not butting into my love life.” They shared a smile. “She’s my real mom. Just not the one who gave birth to me.”
“What happened to that one?” she asked hesitantly. Had she died?
“She ran out on Dad when I was a few months old.”
“Oh my God, that’s horrible!” What kind of person abandoned her baby?
“It was pretty bad for him. But things worked out. Mom’s perfect for him.”
That was all very philosophical, and he sounded so unemotional. Trying to understand, she studied Ty’s strong profile in the dimming light. “What happened between him and your birth mom? Or is that too personal?”
> He glanced toward her, then back out to the shadowed land. “Miranda was from Toronto. She and a girlfriend went to Alberta on holiday, with some romantic notions about cowboys. She and Dad fell head over heels in love—or lust. Next thing they knew, they were married and having a baby.”
“That doesn’t sound so smart.”
“Nope. It didn’t take her long to figure out that ranch life’s the opposite of glamorous.” He gave a wry smile. “Dad, well, he can be charming, and maybe he was romantic when they were dating. But then he went back to his real self, a hardworking, commonsense guy. My grandparents and Miranda never got along. Bottom line, she wanted the life she’d left behind in Toronto: wealthy parents, shops, restaurants, theater, friends. So she went back.”
“Leaving you and your dad.” She shook her head. “That’s so sad. Sad for all of you.” So many dreams, all blown away like dry country dust.
“Not so sad for her. She got what she wanted.” There was bitterness in his voice.
She sympathized with the bitterness, but relationship stories were rarely one-sided. “Maybe. But she must have gone through a rough time for a while. All because she and your dad got carried away and made a mistake.” Lust was heady; she felt that with Ty. You could mistake it for something more, and leap into a match that was totally wrong. Thank heavens she and Ty were sensible.
“Miranda probably felt miserable,” she said. “The ranch wasn’t what she’d dreamed of, her romantic boyfriend had turned into a hardworking rancher, her in-laws didn’t like her, and her support network was back in Toronto.” Quickly she said, “I’m not taking her side, okay? Just saying she and your dad both suffered from their mistake.” And Ty had to feel hurt and bitter, even if he didn’t show it.
“I never thought of it that way,” he said slowly.
“But her answer was to bail. She sounds really immature, like she wasn’t ready to be a mom or a wife, whether it was on a ranch or somewhere else. So she left and got, like, a do-over, going back to the life that suited her. It’s not fair that you and your dad had to go through some rough years, but you might not have been any happier if she’d stuck around. As it was, his parents were there to help, then he met Betty. The right woman for him and the right mom for you. So it worked out in the end.” Probably, that was why Ty managed to be so philosophical.
